A Father's Lament
by Shakespira
Summary: Based on an idea by Arsinoe de Blassenville, with much appreciation! What if Elissa Cousland walks into the Great Hall to speak to her father and Arl Howe and with her is Nathaniel Howe, just back from the Free Marches? A quick one shot.  M for language


**A/N:** _This is a one shot, based on a plot Mabari puppy of Arsinoe de Blassenville's, who is an extremely talented writer. Thank you for letting me borrow it. I hope I don't butcher the poor thing. Warning, this is a bit coarse at times…but so is Howe._

_Premise: Cousland walks into the Great Hall to speak to her father and Arl Howe. With her is Nathaniel Howe, just back from the Free Marches._

**A Father's Lament**

How very like Bryce, the trusting fool, to have his gates thrown open. The arrogance of the man to think no one would dare attack him. Howe's face twisted for just a moment as hate and avarice plucked at his features before smoothing out into his usual studied disdain. _You'll get your comeuppance, you insufferable bastard. _

And Eleanor. She would pay for her refusal of his suit. That conniving bitch held out for a teryn when he should have been the one to claim her. She would beg on her knees for his mercy and he would happily refuse, but not before she performed on those knees. His cock hardened as he thought of her bent over, sucking him dry. A salacious fantasy of mother and daughter servicing him formed and he almost groaned as his cock pulsed with the image. _Why not? Both begging for mercy and I with the power to grant it. "But first, there's just one thing you'll need to do, my dears."_ This fantasy took him to the huge doors of the castle itself.

_Yes, a very rewarding visit, this._ He smiled to himself, a cunning smile that never seemed to reach his dead brown eyes. As he passed through the great hall and entered the throne room, his eyes took in the furnishings with a possessive glint. This would bring in a tidy sum, if he could keep his men from looting everything in sight. They had their orders, but one could never be too sure. He would speak to the captain of his guard, reinforce the need to take whatever carnal pleasures they wanted but leave the material items to him.

"Ah, Howe, there you are. It's good to see you, old friend," Bryce said, all jovial conviviality.

Howe's sneering disgust never reached his face as he stepped forward to greet his teryn. "You're looking well, Bryce, I must say," he greeted, his voice just a notch above unctuous. He would take great pleasure in running the bastard through. Howe took almost as much sexual delight in that image as he did in the image of his wife and daughter sharing his cock.

"I'm sorry to tell you, Bryce, but my men are delayed further. Bad weather has slowed their progress," Howe continued, his head bowed apologetically.

"That's understandable, Howe. The rains have been fierce these past weeks. I'll send Fergus on and we'll ride out together, eh? Just like old times, my friend."

"Yes, just like old times," Howe murmured, silently laughing at Bryce's naivety. The plan was just slithering into place almost too easily.

"Oh pup, and Nathaniel, my boy! When did you arrive?" Bryce was saying and Howe's head snapped up.

Elissa Cousland, dressed in a tight fitting leather jerkin that accentuated her small waist and rounded breasts, entered on the arm of a man that was the very last person Howe had expected to see. It took him a great deal of effort to control his surprise.

"Nathaniel! Why aren't you in the Free Marches?" Howe exclaimed and his voice, for the briefest pause, was all outrage and nerves before it thinned out and became effusive and jovial once again.

"I didn't expect to find you here, son. This is an...unexpected...surprise," Howe finally said, clasping his son's shoulder tightly. He felt Nathaniel flinch. _Good, you remember what my temper is like when crossed, you young whelp. _

"Father, Teryn Cousland," the young man said in his quiet, earnest way. He bowed to each.

"I heard stories, rumors about darkspawn in the south of Ferelden and felt my duty was to return and protect my homeland," Nathaniel answered gravely, avoiding his father's gaze.

Elissa ran a hand along Nathaniel's arm, her green eyes sparkling. "Isn't it wonderful, Father? He's so very brave," she said with an adoring smile for Nathaniel. "I hope to go south with the army too, though Mother balks at such an idea."

Howe felt the bile rising in the back of his throat, part panic and part fury. Nathaniel, the biggest disappointment a father could have. Easygoing, quiet, honorable. Always doing the right thing, and yet he was flesh and blood, unremarkable in all aspects except his looks. And here Howe felt the deep pride of a vainglorious man for Nathaniel Howe was the spitting image of himself in his youth. Those heady times when true power had been so near his grasp. He would have to find a way to get Nathaniel out of the castle before the attack.

Before he could form a plan, the door was opened and Duncan of the Grey Wardens was announced. _Maker's balls! Who else is going to show up? Maric's ghost? _

Howe arranged his face again into those smooth, deferential lines that were required of him as an arl before his liege. His mind was racing. Killing Duncan wouldn't be difficult, he had the manpower with him, but it might upset Loghain further, only because it would upset Cailan. And Cailan was difficult to control when upset. Howe wished he had a stiff brandy in his hand but instead he found himself greeting the Grey Warden with an unctuous smile. _Bastard, look at the way he gawks at Elissa's breasts. Had the man no decency? _His smiled slipped and then steadied.

He needed to find out where Nathaniel was staying within the castle and somehow get word to his men to leave him for Howe. _Nathaniel is biddable enough when given incentive. _

Duncan seemed interested in recruiting Elissa and the thought of her in battle made Howe salivate. _Bryce's little spitfire indeed. Nothing like a pitched battle before sex._ Howe felt the overpowering need to touch himself at that image and he forced his mind back to the conversation that was flowing around him.

"Nathaniel, my boy, I trust that they have given you comfortable accommodations for the night?"

"Yes, Father. In the family's quarters."

_Ah, perfect. I shall be paying you a little visit later, son. If you prove biddable, you have nothing to worry about._ Even as he thought that, Howe saw the enraptured expression on his son's face as he looked down at Elissa. Inwardly sighing, Howe realized he would have to kill his son. That thought was surprisingly less painful than it should have been. Still, he thought it was lamentable, considering how handsome and easily managed the lad was.

Night came and with it, a knock on Howe's door. He wiped his dagger and tossed the cloth into a corner, sliding his dagger into a sheath. He would have preferred a few more minutes alone with his fantasy, but just as well. Time was marching on and soon his fantasy would be a reality, wrapping a soft mouth around him.

"Nathaniel, come in son. You look troubled," Howe said, his voice oozing concern and sympathy.

He watched Nathaniel enter and the boy immediately began pacing. "I heard the men whispering about an attack. What are you planning, Father?" he asked, his face earnest and open.

_Hmm, even better._ "Nothing you need concern yourself with, son. If I were you though, I would consider returning to the Free Marches immediately. This isn't a safe place for you," Howe answered and edged over to his son.

"Whatever you're planning, I won't let you," Nathaniel began and his jaw was set in a stubborn line.

_Ah, so it really was going to be death. So be it_. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel," Rendon Howe said and for the beat of a hummingbird's wings, he actually felt remorse. "I can't allow you to destroy my plans."

"Oh no, Father," Nathaniel began softly, his eyes wide and then his mask slipped, his face twisting until Rendon Howe saw the perfect reflection of himself. His eyes widened.

"I can't allow you to destroy **my** plans," his son whispered and with a swift, graceful move, he leaned into Rendon, the dagger sliding into his heart without a sound.

Nathaniel carefully lowered the body and casually wiped the blade on Rendon's shirt. Loghain had been right, his father was mad. But with that problem solved, and Loghain's promise that Cailan would be gone and a very receptive Anora would accept his proposal, Nathaniel spared little time for regret.

He was born to be king and with one more obstacle out of his way, he smiled briefly and went in search of Elissa.


End file.
